


So Cold It Burns

by magicofthepen



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Gallifrey (Big Finish Audio)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, F/F, Post-Audio: Time War 1: Soldier Obscura, mentions of Ace and Brax
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:29:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22221079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magicofthepen/pseuds/magicofthepen
Summary: Not long after the Time War has officially begun, Romana calls Leela into her office to break some bad news.
Relationships: Leela/Romana II
Comments: 8
Kudos: 17





	So Cold It Burns

Leela has only just returned from a meeting with the War Council when she receives Romana’s summons. 

She turns off the blinking message. Romana surely wants to hear any information she has gathered about what the War Council is planning, but truthfully there are few new details to pass on. That should be strange, given that the Time Lords have just announced their formal declaration of war, but Leela suspects Trave has made sure that no one will say anything of importance in front of her, after the incident in the Death Zone earlier that day. Not that that isn’t always how they’ve operated, pretending to work with Romana and the CIA and building their own monstrosities in secret. The members of the War Council are playing their own games, circling around each other, shifting the pieces of this fight around without leaving a trace of their movements. 

Leela has never enjoyed following the circling motions of Gallifrey’s politics, slow and tiresome as they are. But she does, as Romana reminded her when Leela questioned the wisdom of her selection as liaison, provide a fresh perspective. Eyes that may spot something that career agents will not. 

She knows that her appointment was really a matter of who Romana could trust the most, but there is a certain logic to her excuse. 

Leela had grown to take pride in that post, and to value the respect she received from Trave and the other members. But seeing how they have twisted life and death to their whim, any favorable feelings she had towards those Time Lords have hardened. 

She slips out of her office, a tiny space she tries to spend as little time in as possible, and follows the familiar path to the Coordinator’s office, nodding at the few agents that rush around the Agency headquarters. They barely acknowledge her as she passes, heads full of the missions they hope will let the Time Lords win the war.

Leela had wondered if Gallifrey would feel different, now that the war was official. Now that there was no denying the reality they’d lived under for months. She knows something of all the options Romana and Narvin have exhausted in trying to prevent this conflict, and she respects their work, their determination to stop the bloodshed. But she also knows there is value in truly staring your enemy in the eyes at last and calling it by name. 

On the surface, not much has changed in these past spans. The endless meetings continue. The friction between the War Council and the CIA continues. 

But the tension that has coiled around Gallifrey’s most powerful leaders, a tension that has only grown and grown since the first news of coordinated Dalek attacks on their allies, that tension is nearly suffocating. Instead of the relief of the storm clouds opening at last, the skies have only grown darker and colder, the storm swelling and seething just out of reach. Sometimes it feels as if the entirety of Gallifrey is waiting for the world to come crumbling apart around them. 

Leela enters Romana’s office to find her leaning forward in her desk chair, fingers laced on her desk, completely ignoring the barrage of text and images flashing on her screens. 

“Leela. I hope I wasn’t interrupting anything.”

That is not usually a concern of hers, especially in these times, but Romana also appears more tense than usual. No, not tense, not exactly. Leela takes in the twitch of Romana’s thumbs as they circle around each other, the rise and fall of her breathing, so carefully steady as to be deliberately controlled. Anxious is the word she is looking for. 

“The War Council meeting has finished, but there is not much to debrief — ”

Romana raises a hand. “No, that’s not why I called you here. I’m afraid we’ve...” She swallows and her next words are more deliberate, more hollow. As if she’s trying to hold them still. “I’m afraid we’ve received some bad news.”

 _Bad news._ That could mean nearly anything, given that the entire universe is at risk in this war. But if it was universe-collapsing news, the CIA would be on the highest alert possible, every resource pointed towards the source of the alarm. Whatever is wrong, it is something that drew Romana to speak to her in particular. 

Romana rises to her feet, crossing to stand in front of her desk, hands rested on her elbows. Something softens in her shoulders as her eyes meet Leela’s. 

“Narvin received a message from Braxiatel half a span ago.” Romana’s voice is quiet. There’s a deliberate gentleness in her words that is rare to hear, especially when there are deep circles under her eyes, her shoulders weighed down by exhaustion. “He and Ace were unable to stop the fleet. And…”

Leela knows, in the sudden chill that sweeps over her from head to toe, what Romana is about to say. 

“Ace didn’t survive the mission.”

Silence.

Leela is no stranger to losing those she cares about. And she has long accepted that many casualties will come from any fight, especially one as terrible as this one. This acceptance, it is part of being a warrior. Every life ends. You honor those who have fallen, and you keep moving to make certain they have not died in vain. 

That doesn’t stop the bolt of grief that freezes through her, the aching realization that a friend whose company she had enjoyed on so many days is gone from the universe. 

“What happened?” Leela says, her breath trembling in and out.

“I don’t know.” Romana sighs, uncrossing her arms to trail her fingertips against the edge of the desk. “Brax’s message was rather vague on the details.”

“His message? Have you not spoken to him in person?”

Romana shakes her head. “We have no idea where he is now. After he sent his last communication, he just — vanished. Perhaps he’s somewhere deep in the war. Or perhaps he managed to escape it.”

The icy feeling in Leela’s stomach is melting now, half-replaced by a burning anger that climbs up into her throat. 

“He would not even show his face here? That is the behavior of a coward.”

She expects Romana will snap back at her. Since his mysterious return to Gallifrey all those years ago, a return he never truly explained to any of them, Leela has remained wary of the trust that Romana has placed in Irving Braxiatel. Oh, she knows he and Romana have a history together that extends before Leela met either of them. But Leela has little patience for the tangled half-truths and evasive statements of Gallifrey’s politicians, and that is an area Brax has continued to excel in. 

To her surprise, Romana purses her lips and says nothing. She runs a hand through her hair, letting strands tangle around her fingers. 

“Romana,” Leela says. “Do you think that what Braxiatel says is true?”

She hesitates. Leela can see it in her eyes, her struggle to decide exactly how much she wants to say, exactly how much she wants to believe in an old friend whose questionable grasp of the truth has only increased with time. 

“No,” Romana says, finally, quietly. “But it’s the most likely possibility. Ace has not returned to Gallifrey, and we are now, formally, in the middle of a Time War. Whatever happened, she is lost to us.” She swallows, but she cannot hide how her voice shakes on the last few words. 

“Ace.” Leela shakes her head slowly. Her name does not really echo around the room, but it feels as though it does. The other human at the Agency. And not just that, but another human who had traveled with the Doctor, who had come to this planet from a world far away and tried to make it her new home. That feeling, of being treated as an outsider no matter how much she’s proven herself, has never faded as long as Leela had lived on Gallifrey. And for all that she loves Romana and Narvin, for all that they care for her in return, that is something they can never fully understand. 

It was nice, to have a friend who understood. 

Romana crosses the few steps between them to rest a hand just above Leela’s elbow. “I don’t know if the news has gotten out yet among the rest of the agents. But I didn’t want you to hear from just anyone.” Her thumb brushes against Leela’s skin. “I know how close the two of you were.” 

Romana voice softens at the past tense, and her hand trails down Leela’s arm. Their fingers meet and slip together. 

Leela’s breath catches. It is rare for Romana to touch her even as innocently as this, when they are in the office. She wishes it was brought on by something other than shared grief.

“Thank you, for telling me.” 

Leela squeezes Romana’s hand, grateful for her touch, grateful for the gentleness in her words. In a moment or two, they will both move on and carry the weight of their mourning close inside, but for now they are standing here together. Breathing together. Holding on together.

Leela expects a squeeze of her hand, a half smile if Romana can manage it. What she does not expect is for Romana to step forward, cup her free hand around Leela’s cheek, and press their lips together. 

The kiss in itself is not unusual. But Romana has never kissed her anywhere near the CIA Tower. This part of their relationship is reserved for the quiet hours back in their quarters where no one is watching, where no one could rush in with an urgent message. Romana has made it very clear that in the hours when she is the Coordinator of the CIA first, there are boundaries that should not be crossed. 

Later, Leela might give her a hard time about breaking her own rules, but right now, with Romana’s mouth soft against her own, she is hardly going to complain. 

Romana breaks away, a blush beginning to heat her cheeks. “I…”

Leela doesn’t let her stammer out much else. She leans forward, slipping one hand from Romana’s arm to her waist and pulling her close until their lips meet again. 

For several long moments, the demands of the war fade to the background. That frozen, angry pain in her stomach thaws ever so slightly. Right now, there is just this: their shared uneven breath, the familiarity of Romana’s arms around her waist, one palm pressed firmly to her lower back. The movement of Romana’s mouth against her own, soft then biting, a gentle pressure shifting to a warm, open-mouthed desperation, teeth scraping against lips, tongues darting in between. 

The press of Romana’s hand on her back grows more and more insistent, until they are entirely clinging together. That same restless anxiety in Romana’s twitching fingers, Leela can feel it in the searing warmth of her kisses, the way her hand buries into Leela’s hair and squeezes the strands between her fingers. 

Romana may not strictly need to breathe, but Leela certainly does. But she is pleased to see, when she breaks the kiss with a gasp, that Romana withdraws only slightly. Close enough that Leela’s thumb can still comfortably trace the curve of her jaw, her fingers brushing against Romana’s neck until she shivers. 

“I, ah, probably shouldn’t have done that,” Romana murmurs. 

Leela laughs. Another buffer against the chill stealing over her body. “I am glad that you did.”

Sometimes, when Romana is wrapped up in trying to save her planet and the entire universe, she can slip too easily into old habits of shutting out every person who cares for her. This moment, the utter fondness in Romana’s eyes as she touches her forehead against Leela’s, is a breath of fresh air.

“I can’t, I won’t make a habit of it.” Romana shakes her head helplessly. “But we’ve lost so much already, and I don’t know…”

She trails off, the unspoken possibilities echoing in the air. _When they’ll have a moment to themselves. If Gallifrey can triumph against the full might of the Daleks. If the war will keep pushing at both of them until something shatters between them._

Leela can still feel the echoes of her kisses and all their fierce insistence. As much as it was a comfort for Leela, to be held close, to lose herself in warmth and sensation for just a moment, Romana wanted it, needed it, too. To cling to someone she has left, for as long as this fight will allow her. 

Romana is biting her lip, and Leela knows her well enough to be certain there is something else she wants to say. 

“Is there another reason you called me into your office?”

She exhales. “Not really. Or more precisely, not now.” 

“What is it?”

Romana glances down at their entwined bodies, and her hands slide back to rest on Leela’s waist, her thumb tracing a careful circle against Leela’s hip. Neither of them truly make an effort to step away. 

“There are so many factions at play in this war. I can’t always be certain who to trust.” She withdraws one hand to curl a strand of hair behind her ear. “And the missions we’re running, the things we’re doing out in the universe... there are some things I can’t assign just any agent at the CIA to.”

Romana looks up at Leela now, her eyes half steel and half desperation. “I’m not asking anything specific. Not...not yet.” Her eyes flicker, far away, and Leela is certain there _is_ something specific she is thinking of. But the War Council is not the only one shifting pieces around in this fight, and maybe hers aren’t in place yet, aren’t ready for her to explain. Or maybe she is reluctant to pull back just yet, to turn this moment of mourning into yet another mission briefing. 

Romana lifts her chin, and for all her determination, Leela can see the fear she tries to hide, feel it in the nervous movement of her fingers. “But with Ace gone, with Brax gone, Leela…I will need your help, now more than ever.”

It’s somewhere between a plea and a request and a demand. It’s a statement of fact. It’s a confession, here in these dark early hours of a struggle that is tearing the universe apart. 

Romana continues, a weariness creeping into her voice. “I know you weren’t pleased about going into the Death Zone earlier. I know you have your own responsibilities, and I don’t mean to take advantage, but…”

Leela cuts her off. “I know you are trying to do the right thing. I cannot promise I will always agree with you, or always go on every errand you ask of me. But I will listen. I will do what I can.” 

She wants to pull Romana close, whisper that everything will be alright, tell her that Gallifrey has survived so many wars and they will survive again. She’s not sure if that wish is more for Romana’s sake, or her own. 

“It is true, I did not wish to break the War Council’s trust.” Leela sighs. “But I _am_ glad that we know about the terrible things they are hiding in that… _resurrection_ chamber. If there is a mission you think will help in this war, I trust your judgement.”

The relief in Romana’s eyes is vivid, her breath caught in her throat as she murmurs a _thank you._ For a moment, Leela thinks Romana might kiss her again, but instead her arms simply slide back around Leela’s waist, chin tucked on Leela’s shoulder. 

They stay like that for a long moment, no longer trying to banish any restless, anxious energy, but simply sharing in the comfort of holding each other close, stealing a moment of safety in each other’s arms at the blazing dawn of the most horrific war the universe has ever seen. Romana hides her face in Leela’s shoulder for a breath, and Leela swallows back a stinging in her own eyes. She cannot afford to let anything — grief or fear — leave her unsteady on her feet. Neither of them can. 

Keep moving. Keep fighting. Leela steps back, and the cool distance stretches out between them. She meets Romana’s eyes, and they are steel again, piercing and steady. 

Leela cannot be certain how many more shared moments of comfort they will have, as Romana keeps looking outward to the whole of her world, outward to all the peoples and planets throughout time and space that are threatened. 

So before she steps away entirely, Leela squeezes Romana’s hands one last time and speaks with all the confidence they are both pretending to have. 

“When you need my help, I will always be here.” 

_Always_ is a dangerous word, especially in a war like this one that twists and snaps at time itself. But it is not the first absolute promise she has made in her life, and no matter how dark the waiting storm clouds grow, no matter how much the world crumbles and shrieks and threatens to drive them apart, this is a promise she intends to keep.


End file.
